Drink the Water
by Wildeve of the Heath
Summary: "Ya live in a dysfunctional town. Ya live in a dysfunctional house. Ya live as a dysfunctional person. Ya live like dysfunction is normal. Ya live to see a girl who isn't dysfunctional. Oh, look, a break in the pattern- well, I'll be damned."
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

Drink the Water

"Ya live in a dysfunctional town. Ya live in a dysfunctional house. Ya live as a dysfunctional person. Ya live like dysfunction is normal. Ya live to see a girl who isn't dysfunctional. Oh, look, a break in the pattern- well, I'll be damned."

A/N: ...Ymir is your average trailer trash and Krista is a rich man's kid, do the math.

I was listening to Justin Cross's "Drink the Water" so...here you go.

* * *

A plume of hot air produced a mist when she exhaled it into the frost.

Desert nights were always the coldest part of the clock, one that Ymir reveled in as she snuffed out a cigarette. Sitting underneath a juniper tree was the last thing she wanted to do, especially at this time. When the coyotes were yipping on the mountain sides broke the sounds of the highway half a mile away, she pulled her jacket tighter over her shoulders.

Her leather clad boots scuffed against the barren dirt, kicking up small dust to be picked up by the light breeze. She was growing bored, she fought the urge to light another cigarette- she started heading back to the main road to where she parked her Harley.

She absently shoved her key into the ignition and brought it to life, the roar comforting her leather clad hands.

It was quiet that night, very quiet, save for her engine as she rolled down the dirt road and sent plumes of dirt flying from under her wheel. The peace in the blackness made her fidget, even in her seat as her headlight revealed the road ahead of her.

Ymir drove on, it felt like the road led to nowhere, but then it broke off into the main road where black asphalt lined with yellow broken lines gave her a new sight.

Being here, it was endless, the monotony, she wished something would happen, something big.

The last shoot-out was three months ago, and she wasn't even there to get involved, much to her disappointment.

The last brush fire was three years ago and despite the town being covered in dried brush, no one was willing to light it like a matchbox.

The last earthquake was ten years ago, the only damage came in the form of the Trost's only McDonald's sign collapsing and killing Berwik in his truck.

Overall, as of late, nothing eventful was happening, even when she tapped into the drug ring, it was a dead circuit. Just now she tried it, just now she was duped on a deal, just now she was already done with it.

Just like Trost.

The town of Trost was a place that was nestled at the last footsteps of the Rose Mountains, just an hour's drive away from Mitras, the main city south of the state. It was a place deader than death- endless spans of wide plains and tall hills, golden seas of dried brush of uncleared plots went as far as the eye can see, fenced properties of the rich blocked off the hicks from the rich (there this was the upper-class part of Trost, often called Hermiha- there was an invisible boundary), and trailers and beat down cars spotted the land.

Horses and quads were the only sources of the sane local's entertainment- this was an old mining town that kept its Western theme.

The insane stuck to their guns and drugs.

Old buildings from a century ago composed of the town's business area where the 104 freeway ramped in and out of, bringing in tourists and travelers to rest or refuel. The buildings were restored and given the modern blessings of plumbing and electricity, the industries could only touch this town for so much- the only thing that operated as a bank was a lonesome ATM in the Shell station, it hadn't worked for as long as Ymir knew.

As she arrived into town, she went on, going by the usual drinkers that roamed the streets happily, even the goddamn sheriff was piss drunk with his officer.

Ymir parked under an overhanging roof that shaded cars with its wooden planks, her key went back to its place at her belt as she dismounted and strode into the Three Walls Bar- it was a rundown establishment where smoke and laughter filled the air; it too was themed as one of those bars in those Clint Eastwood movies as the doors swung- this town was too lax to care about locks.

She undid the zipper to her leather coat and then hung it on a rack to reveal her black tank top.

Just as the next person in the room, she was dressed just as rugged- she sported torn jeans over these riding boots that had holes in them. Tank tops were her usual thing, only to display the pair of near realistic wings stretched over her breast collar; on her back was another one but she never felt like displaying that one. Always, always, always, the bottoms of her jeans were stained brown from the dirt- she truly lived in dirt.

She ruffled her loose locks and made her way to a table to where Sasha was sitting at.

Unlike her, she wore this faded white blouse shirt as she had a long skirt on. She had just gotten out of the night service and was too lazy to change out.

Sasha was one of those Baptists, she was a kind person, good, but poor. She and her father owned a failing cattle ranch a few miles away, as part-time her father was the town's only pastor, she worked under him as his assistant and coordinator. Ymir used to attend his services as a child, used to, but she fell out of it- regardless, she and Sasha were on good terms.

Sasha, however, had a single flaw- she binged. This time, she binged on drinks. Usually Connie would be here to help her out but he wasn't there, oddly enough.

"Hey, where's Connie?" Ymir asked her, boot nudging her ankle.

"I-unno," Sasha slurred as she looked up from her chips.

"You're funny," Ymir huffed,"is he off baptizing himself in Vaseline?"

Sasha shrugged and struggled to stay in her seat.

"Tch." Ymir was usually amused by Sasha drunk, but tonight, she didn't feel like being in the mood to watch her.

She wanted to come here for a drink yet that appetite faded away at the sight of her old friend. All she wanted to do was go home now and just be done with tonight. Just as she was about to get up, Sasha's hand caught her bare wrist.

"Can ya...take me home?" Sasha begged her.

Ymir simply shrugged, she may as well make the trip to the bar worth it as Sasha would owe her for the next favor; she went off to fetch her coat, then returned. Ymir leaned down, helped Sasha up, and guided her out the door, past the biker gang that stood outside (she didn't recognize them as their insignia wasn't local) and then to her own ride. As she aided Sasha onto her bike, she heard a few of the obnoxious men call out to her.

"Damn, that's one sweet ride, honey!"

Ymir only flipped him off and sped down the road, ignoring their disappointed groaning.

Sasha clung to her waist and was humming sharply, much to Ymir's annoyance.

"If you don't shut up, I'm dropping you back at the bar and letting those guys have fun with you," Ymir threatened.

"That ain't nice, `mir," Sasha whined,"ya wouldn't do that!"

"Maybe I would," Ymir huffed.

The rest of the ride was quiet save for Sasha nearly throwing them off balance but Ymir managed to drive by the empty feed lots and up a gravel path to the two-story house that Sasha called home. Once she dropped her off, and after having to deal with Sasha consistently hugging her, Ymir was back on the road to home.

About three miles away from Sasha's place was Ymir own shit hole. It was an unclosed property that was about ten acres, on it, most noticeable a mile away, was a red barn- there used to be horses in that filled the twelve stalls but now only one remained, an old gray horse that was gelded in his younger years.

She popped by the barn to feed him, he knickered at her as usual before going to his hay. He was something that she had that she kept from her childhood, while he was old he still kicked happily, something she loved about him, though his use had dwindled over time.

Getting back onto her bike, she rode the rest of it back to her run-down ranch house. It was only a single story, four bedrooms, a large living room, a small kitchen, and a three car garage that had been converted into a workshop. There, when bored, she was off fixing cars brought in by the townspeople...if they ever came by.

All of her customers were dead.

A few of their bikes were still in the garage but she scrapped them for parts.

She got off of her bike and lifted up the garage door, she wheeled it in, engine off, and slid the door close, hitting the lock to prevent any stragglers from getting in. It had happened before, it ended with her digging ten feet down, the body's head facing up.

She clapped her hands together, then removed her gloves to shove them into the back of her jeans.

Ymir entered the kitchen from the garage, the door was an announcement for Jean to turn his head around to look at her from her spot on the couch.

"Sup?" Jean greeted her while facing the tv. "Did it go well?"

"Got stood up, fucker never even sent a call," Ymir cursed as she went over to the moth eaten sofa and hopped over the headrest to sit next to him. Jean gave her his bottle of beer. "How do you even work like this? I'm surprised you even pay your rent this way."

"He may have thought you were from the FBI-"

"FBI don't wear leather jackets and drive Harleys," Ymir pointed out as they absently watched the football game.

Jean Kirstein was someone she knew back in school, he too dropped out at a later year as he found business in drug dealing. Ever since he discovered the beauty of cash flow, he fucked off out of education and made a stake in life. He still had that stupid two-toned hair and his long face brought her horse Titan to shame, she often refrained from calling him "horseface" as it was a nick-name reserved for some other bastard.

He spent his years living with Ymir, their relationship was mutual. He paid rent either too short or too late, but he made sure to pay.

Other than that, she kept her distance from him for most times.

Another hapless person living with her was a secretive woman, her cousin Ilse Langnar. She stayed in her room, holed up for days at a time. More or less, she was the only family she had and, by obligation, allowed her to stay with her; she was independent and cared for herself. She spent her time writing endlessly in books, obsessing over words like some sort of freak.

The only person who ever dropped by in her room was Hanji Zoe, a failed doctor who had her license revoked after drugging her patients during surgeries; she had a few accounts of murder under her belt, though she claimed they were accidents, and managed to wing prison, escaping as a fugitive and finding herself living under Ymir's roof.

She was batshit insane to a point where Ymir sniffed her drinks and slept with one eye open, she steered clear of her unless rent had to be paid. So long as Ilse was alive and unhurt, Ymir was less than bothered to have them interact.

In truth, all this living with her wasn't so much as a big deal, Ymir simply couldn't give enough fucks.

"One day they'll come barging into your house for one of us," Jean said, picking at his ear.

"Damn, I wonder why. We got a small time drug dealer, a fugitive fuck, and someone who's housing them without reporting them," Ymir listed them off as she counted with her fingers.

"Surprised you hadn't kicked us out."

"Gotta make money somewhere."

"Too lazy to break your back?"

Ymir snorted. "I've already done that."

It went quiet between the two.

The Legionaries scored a touchdown against the Apaches, another predictable game. Ymir sighed and got up, utterly spent for the day.

"Later," she said as she dragged herself to her room.

Jean didn't reply as she slammed the door behind her.

Without thinking or taking off her clothes, she threw herself down to her worn, uncovered mattress and passed out.

The following morning, her alarm clock came in the form of shouts and gunshots- it was just another shitty day.


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

* * *

If anyone could piss off Ymir in this town faster than she can smell bullshit, or shit, it had to be Reiner.

He was a heavily built man, bulky, who always saunters around with a taller fellow and an unbelievable short blond, Bertolt and Annie respectively. They were a trio who went back beyond years that Ymir could count on her hands and toes. She always found them as a disturbance, whether they were doing so or not, just being in the same radius set her off.

Both dressed raggedly, just as her, with little care for clothes. Most often they would be found wearing these flannels, though Annie had a tendency to take the hem and lift it higher to reveal her toned belly as it was tied up right under her non-existent breasts. Roughed up jeans and biker boots, they discarded their old jackets were discarded only a few years ago as Ymir took down most of their organization single-handed out of whim- well, she was drunk.

With a group being in the same bar as her, while she and them were drunk, she lost her temper over a poker game.

Fireworks went off and twelve graves were dug for the gang.

Grudges were held long after, every once in a while Ymir received a wake up call.

Today was one of those days.

And she hated them.

She threw herself out of bed, boots still on her, and reached for a pump-action shotgun that hung off a stand nailed to the wall.

Jean was already up and arms, Magnum in hand, barking at her,"They're here!"

Ymir rolled her eyes as she followed him down the hallway. As she rounded a corner, a white blur came out of the corner of her eye and collided with her, throwing her against a beer tower Jean built out of boredom. Ymir picked herself up from the cans and glared up to see Hanji, still in her pajamas and only wearing robes, hands waving frantically- she was in hysterics.

"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus!" Hanji cried.

More alarming to Ymir was the fact that her white robed sleeves were covered in blood, red fresh blood.

"Hanji, what the fuck!?" Ymir yelled at her, angered and confused- she shouldn't have been surprised to see Hanji donning blood but for once, there was a sinking feeling. Normally the woman would be smiling maniacally but now she was frantic. "The fuck is that!?"

"I-Ilse!" Hanji stuttered, hopping about in her loafers, she pointed to Ilse's door to where there were bullet holes riddling the planks.

Ymir didn't need any other explanation as she ducked to avoid a bullet that whizzed through a window, shattering it. She shoved Hanji to the wall and forced her to stay down as a car's engine from outside roared; the bastards were driving circles around the house.

Ymir crawled over to the door to enter Ilse's room. Usually the room was an organized mess with notebooks and papers stacked up as high as the ceiling- it was disheveled now. Blood bleed onto the loose pages that had fallen and amongst it all was Ilse face flat on the floor, blood pouring from her head and squirting out onto the gray stained carpet.

Ymir froze.

Goddamn.

She stared at her. Time to dig another grave.

"Fuck me," Ymir murmured as she looked out the window.

The duo had decided to drive off, done with their daily assault. Ymir shook her head, she didn't even have a chance to warm up her shottie.

Elsewhere, Hanji was getting to her feet to check the damage that they had wrought. She held the most shock as Ymir knelt by Ilse to see the bullet that riddled her temple- oh, she was definitely dead. Ymir began to pick her up.

"Go get a shovel, help me bury her," Ymir instructed as silence fell throughout the house.

Jean was still standing out on the back patio, aiming feverishly, barrel waving left and right. When the car had driven off, he relaxed and turned to see the mess of recluse. "Oh, well fuck me. She dead?"

Ymir nodded once as Hanji spoke up,"Bury her? No grave?! No mark!?"

"She don't have family but me, not really close to her. Ain't on the records either, would it really matter?"

Hanji grabbed at Ymir's sleeve, then her arm. "It matters to me!"

"Tell that to the other twenty people you killed for science," Ymir snorted, trying so hard not to laugh at sympathy that was so shallow, it made the desert look soaked with water.

Hanji fumed. "Who fed her and cared for her? Me! Who spoke to her when she was alone? Me!"

"Who injected her with morphine whenever she asked for it?" Ymir shot at her.

"That would be Jean, but that's not the point!" Hanji exclaimed, hand waving. "Isn't she family to you?"

"By blood, yeah-"

"Then bury her! I'll pay for it!"

Damn, she was persistent. Ymir glanced down at Ilse, the woman was dead in her arms, tongue sticking out with blood staining her freckles and caking her short hair. She then stared at Hanji's urgent face, then reluctantly agreed. "Fine, you arrange it. Take her."

Ilse was given to Hanji, besides, if she didn't agree, she would never have the ability to drink water from the tap without being suspicious of obtaining some sort of gastric infection. She shuddered at the thought as Jean had one gun slung over his shoulder, a beer bottle at hand- he tossed it over to her.

Just another day.

-...-

"We be gathered here today to mourn the loss of Ilse Langnar...a, um, uh," the Father began to stumble through it- there wasn't much to say about her.

The only ones in attendance in the desert landscape were Ymir, Hanji, and Jean, just those three. Then Sasha's father and Sasha herself were there, it was a small funeral as there were few that knew of Ilse's existence. That was why Ymir had spent the entire morning staring at a blond girl that had taken to attending the ceremony- it piqued her curiosity beyond anything.

The girl was small, just about Ymir's chest height- she was rather cute even as she wore black, she was looking at the ground, quiet, as they had just buried Ilse.

Soon after the mourning had finished, though Hanji spent most of the time bawling with Jean standing by her side, patting her shoulder, Ymir had taken to approach Sasha, eyes still fixated on the blond as she wandered beyond the graves, hand brushing against the crosses of the unmarked Chinese graves.

"Who that?" Ymir asked as she adjusted her hat. She had taken to wearing black slacks, black trench coat, and even a black gambler hat (one of those Western kinds) to complete her look. She reached into her coat pocket to pull out two cigarettes, one for her and Sasha. She lit them both and they walked opposite of where the girl had strode off to.

Sasha looked over at her, shovel in hand. "Oh, her? That'un there is Miss Reiss, daughter of Lod Reiss- man leaves'er here e'ry Sunday to pray with me an' Pa. Very good kid, good Christian- hell, pro'lly the only good Christian fer miles."

Ymir kept her eyes trained on her. "Call her over."

"Huh- Ymir, ya gotta be kiddin' me-"

"I just want to thank her for her condolences. She attended a stranger's funeral."

"She attends _any_ funeral!"

Ymir scoffed and tossed the cigarette to the ground, snuffing it out with her boot. "Don't care, I feel like being nice today."

Sasha shook her head, then let out a sharp whistle as they took to standing by the church doors. The girl, this 'Miss Reiss', turned around from the graves and glanced over at them. Sasha waved her hand, gesturing her to come over- without question, she made her way. Ymir bit her bottom lip in anticipation, finding her form rather pleasing to look at.

Ymir took off her hat and held it by her chest.

"Miss Reiss, this is Ymir, she's Miss Langar's cousin," Sasha started.

Ymir offered her hand to her, smiling, in turn, Miss Reiss shook it. "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

Miss Reiss finally looked up at her to reveal the most beautiful pair of eyes that were bluer than the sky, Ymir nearly dropped her hat when the girl spoke,"Pleasure it is. I'm sorry about your loss, it must have been hard. If I may be too bold, what had...happened to her?"

"It was an accident, hunting accident," Ymir clarified. "Hunting quail, see? Ilse was always a klutz, took a spill off the rocks and set her gun on her head."

Miss Reiss's fair face contorted with shock and genuine sympathy, elsewhere, Sasha was shaking her head disapprovingly. "Oh, oh my..."

"Pretty horrid, my poor aching heart," Ymir emphasized as she brought her hat to her chest. "Girl never got to see twenty-one."

"Must be dangerous being a hunter," Miss Reiss said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

As Ymir nodded, a car pulled up. It was one of those nice, clean old fashion ones, a Ford Coupe, 1940s. It was black, sleek, polished to a point of where Ymir could see her reflection. At the driver's seat was an old man, his gaunt face was daunting but it didn't deter the fact that he was her father as the girl offered more sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Ymir, I have to go. Perhaps we can meet again," Miss Reiss said, apologizing as best she could.

Ymir mouthed,"Thank you," as the girl waved to both of them, she then made her way to the car to sit by her father.

As they drove away, leaving them in the dust, Ymir slapped Sasha on the shoulder with her hat. "Why ain't you telling me that flower grew here!?"

"`cuz yer Ymir!" Sasha said, glaring at her. "Miss Reiss is a nice girl, very nice, last thing I need is for ya'ta come'long and fuck her up!"

"Oh? Since when did the binge eating, booze loving, hypocritical pastor's daughter ever care about innocence?" Ymir snapped at her. "What's so special about her that you don't want me near her?"

"Her father's the reason why me'n Pa ain't livin' down at the bar," Sasha explained as she lead her into the chapel.

They took to sitting at one of the pews by the alter, Ymir reclined as she started smoking, to which Sasha easily disposed of it by ripping it from her mouth and shutting it between the pages of a Bible.

"No smokin' in the chapel, yu'll burn the rafters down!"

Ymir shrugged.

"Anyway, s'long as we keep this church open, her father funds us. Man's a big supporter of Christianity- girl moved in 'bout a near six months ago. Naturally, no'uns attending service so men' Pa keep the money for ourselves."

"No'uns attendin' cuz ya'll ain't got any rafters left'ta burn down," Ymir mocked her as she pointed up at the ceiling...well, what was there. About a decade ago, during the earthquake that killed Berwick, the structure of the old rafters collapsed, caving in the chapel partway. As a result, services were often held outside- no one had done a thing to repair it, no one attended since then.

It was surprising that Sasha's father was able to find a sponsor for this dump.

The man must have been blind to not notice the roof.

Sasha shook her head.

"Caught you there, idiot, I swear, you're worse than trash."

"It's called bein' desperate."

"How're we friends?"

"I dunno. I really dunno."

"Well, if you need a home and you...end up losing your ranch and stuff, I got an opening in mine," Ymir offered as she stood up.

"Cold much?"

"Nah, the temperature is perfect in Ilse's, hit's a good 70."

Sasha sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "So...now ya know Miss Reiss exists, ya gonna fuck this up fer me'n Pa?"

"Damn right I might. You said she comes here every Sunday?"

"E'ry Sunday, that's right."

"Call me a Christian then."


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

* * *

"Can ya quit that? Service is in half'n hour," Sasha scolded Ymir as she swatted the cigarette out of her hand.

Ymir left her hand overhanging from its spot. "Alright, Sasha, can't you tell time?"

Once again, the following week, they were sitting amongst the graves, waiting for service to start. Sasha's father was running late, as was the woman, Ymir waited for. She looked down at her watch, just a quarter until eight, then the pastor should arrive; another five minutes and his flock would return.

"I can tell decency," the brunette shot at her, glaring.

Ymir shrugged and stepped over to a stone cross to lean against it, arms crossed. Damn, she really wanted that cigarette, she didn't have time to light one that morning. She tapped her foot against a rock before punting it away at a decorative wagon that was displayed at the front of the chapel. Sasha paced back and forth, hands wrapping over one another.

"What're you doing that for? You're making me nervous," Ymir stated over her shoulder. "Walking around like that."

"I'm walkin' `cuz I'm thinkin' what c'rruption ya can give t'Miss Reiss," Sasha pressed on, she was persistent throughout the week about Ymir even uttering the name. She even attempted to bribe her with drinks to keep her from attending- all of those, Ymir declined and arrived at the chapel's doors. "Ya don't even know the girl, why ya gotta have interest now?"

Ymir snorted. "What's there to be interesting in this place?"

"I'm askin' why ain'tcha leavin' elsewhere?"

"No reason."

Well, there was a reason. That reason was why she couldn't go to school, couldn't land a job, couldn't pass a profiling to save her life. She simply let it roll off her shoulders, she had property, she had an income from those two, no longer three, idiots at home, there really wasn't a motivation to get out of there.

She was fine where she was.

"Here she comes," Sasha announced when an engine came rambling through in the distance.

Ymir sat up from where she had seated herself, atop an unmarked grave. Pastor Braus emerged from the chapel doors, his usual attire clothed him perfectly, though his sunken eyes and stench of breath of whiskey prevented him from being any close to God. Ymir quickly ruffled her hair and tucked it neatly under her hat, may as well look clean. She rolled her eyes at the sound of his belch.

"`mir, hadn't seen ya here since ya were yey high," Braus said as gestured to his waist.

"I was at the funeral last Sunday," Ymir sighed.

Braus gave her a dumb look. "Thought I's'un buryin' ya."

"Get your eyes checked, old man."

Sasha patted him on the back as the expensive car came to pull up at the door. "Don't worry, Pa, yer still a good man."

Miss Reiss stepped out of the car with the assistance of her father, he had aided her to her feet and then promptly returned to his seat. As quick as he came, he was gone, leaving his daughter in the dust.

Unlike last week, the girl had taken to wearing a periwinkle Sunday dress. It fitted her form well, her small frame and lithe body, she looked too pure to be in this town. Ymir walked over to her, bowing. As she lowered her eye level, she noticed of what appeared to be burn marks at her wrist, they were going up her forearm; only a trained eye would have caught the darker sides under the concealers.

"Morning, Miss," Ymir said graciously, though slowly.

"Good morning," Miss Reiss greeted her pleasantly. "Fancy meeting you here."

"I'm a child of God, best to stay with my flock," she easily told her as she escorted her up the steps of the chapel. All the while, Sasha was shaking her head, just like earlier.

Service was long, or at least it felt like it. The sun had reached its peak by high noon, for light poured in through the rafters, bathing Ymir and beckoning to wake up to the sound of,"...God's people say..."

"Amen," came Sasha and the other girl.

"_Amen_," Ymir echoed under her breath.

Braus had stepped away from the charred alter, most likely to drink his day away in his truck. Sasha stood up and seated herself by Ymir as Miss Reiss took to walking up to the alter for whatever thought that was crossing her mind.

"Not much of a woo'er if ya keep on sleepin' through service," Sasha said to her. "Ya shook them rafters with yer snoring."

"I can learn," Ymir said with a shrug as she tore a page off the Bible to wipe away a trail of saliva from her mouth. "Say, them Mormons coming in to replace your books?"

"Wrong people, idiot."

"Tch...this all she does?" She gestured her chin towards Miss Reiss as she meddled through the debris.

"Yup, every week. Nothin' special much."

Ymir clicked her tongue, her voice lowering. "She got some marks on her arms."

"Marks?" Sasha asked, brow raised, her tone though...

"Almost like burns...she suicidal or something?"

"Far from that- Miss Reiss, I'll be outside for a moment."

Miss Reiss nodded with a smile.

Sasha grabbed Ymir by her shoulder and hauled her up to her feet. She ushered her out the door, then pushed her against the wall. "I'm tellin' ya, stay away from her."

Ymir merely craned her neck. "Getting physical, are you?"

"We're gettin' this cash from her father-"

"It's more than being a supporter of Christianity, is it?"

"-an' the last thing we need is for ya to come waltzin' in and fuckin' her up, got it?"

Ymir shrugged. "Alright, alright, relax, I ain't gonna touch a single hair on her if that's what you wish."

Sasha sighed out of relief and released her reluctantly. "Now...get outta here."

"And if I start touching her, what're you to do?"

"For starters, I'll pro'lly just shoot you."

"That ain't Christian of you."

"Get goin'."

-...-

Sunday services...when was the last time she came over for that?

She shrugged it off by evening when the moon had taken the place of the sun.

She had decided to wander aimlessly through the town, she wanted something to occupy her mind the next day. It was on the highway that she caught sight of a lone figure walking along the highway. She squinted for a moment, unsure of who or what it was...whatever it was, it was definitely a person. She slowed down to have a better look as the figure had a thumb up.

A hitch-hiker.

Ymir halted several feet away from this person, eventually it stepped into the light.

"Evening," Ymir asked more than greeted.

"I...I need a ride to the nearest bar," the hitch-hiker requested, a girl.

"There's one three miles from where I came from, not much of a hassle to take you there," Ymir said, she gestured for her to come along. Once she was close enough, she got a better look of the person. Blue eyes, fair skin, fair face, Miss Reiss.

"Hold on," Ymir said, holding her wrist. "Miss, what're you doing all out here?"

"Ymir, it that you?" She asked of her.

Ymir slowly nodded; it was too quiet now. Even with the engine roaring under her, it felt too quiet, too eerie. She stared at her for a moment, long and hard, as though she were the most peculiar thing on the landscape.

"Ymir, you look pale," she said as she leaned close.

"Well, not every day you find a flower growing off the side of the side of the-ah!"

The girl's jaw opened up as though it were some fucking thing from a horror movie. Ymir was knocked off of her seat, but simultaneously, her bike had fallen atop her foot. Ymir yelped out and tried to break herself away from it, only to have the girl begin to crawl over the engine, awaiting her. Ymir tried to claw her away back as the jaw of that girl loosened itself, opening wider.

"F-fuck!" Ymir cried as she tried to use her hands to keep the girl away.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuc-

-...-

"Get off of her!" Jean snapped.

Ymir found herself passed out on her couch.

When she shifted, a clatter of bottles from from her feet. Another night of binge drinking. She looked around, head spinning- she saw that Hanji was sitting on one of her legs, that would explain the weight. For another, the woman was too close, too uncomfortably close; that too would explain why she felt like she was being crawled upon.

"Gah!" She kicked Hanji off and sent her flying onto the coffee table, then the ground. "Weren't you supposed to be in mourning- ah! My fucking head!"

Ymir sat up, she rubbed her neck, groaning.

"The fuck happened here!?"

"Well, you came home last night with some girl, got utterly hammered with her, and then she up and left before light!" Jean exclaimed. "By the way, your pants are out on the yard."

Ymir looked down to find herself in only her panties, she stared at them, then at Hanji, then back at her panties. She tried to calm herself down. "...what'd the girl look like?"

"Blond hair, short, pretty eyes, almost angelic," Hanji listed off with her fingers. "You guys wouldn't let us join so there's not much to go off of."

"Did she give a name?" Ymir dryly asked.

"Something Lenz...Kristal? Krista!" Jean recalled.

"Sounded almost like Crystal Meth," Hanji said with a laugh as she got up, brushing her robes off from the dust. "Usually it takes a lot for you to get drunk, I'm surprised you got knocked out. And by beer too?" She picked one of them up, muttering to herself as she went off to her room to do Lord knows what.

The confusion she faced left Ymir feel out of place. She had her times of waking up in random places, the barn, the bar, a water tank, lots of places, but just being at home, it was the oddest thing ever. She shook her head and collapsed against the worn pillow.

Jean had taken to sit on the coffee table by her.

"What're you looking at?" Ymir asked gruffly, closing her eyes.

Jean always had a thing for staring at things he wasn't supposed to.

"Nothing...just hadn't heard you laugh like you did last night since ever," Jean said as though it were the biggest news since the earthquake from a decade ago. "Krista really got you going, eh?"

"Krista, Krista, never fucking...what did she, how," Ymir stammered through. "Uh...what day is it?"

"Tuesday morning."

"Alright...what was I doing last night?"

Jean paused for a moment, then told her,"Said you were going out for a ride, I dunno what you do when you fuck off."

Ymir nodded. Everything from last night...it was like it was a blur, nothing could be recalled. That dream though, it may as well just be a nightmare concocted from shattered memories from the night before. She had no idea what went on, and normally she never bothered to check, but now she just had to know.

The world spun and she felt sick to her stomach. Unceremoniously, she rolled to the side and puked over the carpet, much to Jean's displeasure.

"Ugh! If you said you were sick, you should have asked for a bucket!" Jean complained.

The only reply came in the form of a middle finger.


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

* * *

Jean had told her the spout to Titan's water bucket was no longer working.

Something about the pressure not being strong enough to bring in the water to the bucket. She spent the morning in the barn, hitting the pipes until some result came out of it. Apparently it was clogged right near the bend to where water poured out, her efforts of labor got the damn thing to work, her horse went on to drink what sounded like a gallon's worth of it.

"Good boy," she softly said, patting by his withers.

She wiped the sweat off of her brow and picked up the tool box, placing it in storage in the tack room.

Three days passed since she woke up hungover, she didn't bother about the dream, she didn't bother about finding this "Krista Lenz", thinking her to be one of the crazy redneck locals. It was like her mind had inked out what happened, who her face was, and she figured it was better to not know anything.

Things swung back to normal.

Jean was back to his production of drugs and Hanji had holed herself up in her room; they had left Ilse's room untouched though Ymir had to deal with clearing it out herself...probably never.

She yawned lazily and scratched away an itch on her belly.

The desert was cooler at this time of day when the sun was just barely peeking over the Rose Mountains. A mist had produced and blanketed the vast lands, making it near impossible to see anything for another mile or so. The only view she had was the line of trees from the developing forest, her eyes focused along the edges.

A white form appeared, upon its back was a rider clad in an outfit fit for the heat. Ymir squinted for a moment, watching, they seemed to be wandering here and there, almost lost at where to go. And they most likely were.

They were stumbling onto her property, she didn't take too kindly to strangers but after deeming this one not much of a threat, she decided to investigate. She went back into the tack room and gathered the blankets and an old western saddle. She opened Titan's stall and heaved the equipment onto him, making sure his cinch and breast collar were properly fitted and tight.

When was the last time she rode him? A long while, doing this reminded her of childhood.

She went back to the tack room and took a bridle, one where she placed on his head and did the latches.

Once saddled, she led him out of the barn and checked for the white horse; they had meandered closer and deeper into the property.

Ymir nimbly swung herself upon Titan's back and kicked at his sides, spurring him into a quick trot; he was supple and compliant, he did whatever told, she appreciated him.

As she led him beyond the barn, she eased him up in to a lope, her hips rolling in the saddle in time with his pace. He went on, never breaking his beat, as they neared the rider. Much to her utter surprise, it was the exclusive Miss Reiss.

Unlike Ymir's rough attire, the girl before her was dressed rather cleanly, her jeans and shirt were new, so was her own tack, even her horse was more lively than Titan. Ymir brought her horse to a stop before her and leaned against the saddle horn, her arm propping her up. She examined Miss Reiss, she looked tired and somewhat weary, like she had been wandering forever.

"You lost, Miss?" Ymir asked.

Miss Reiss looked at her, eyes pleasant as always but there was a bit of exhaustion. "Oh, Ymir...I didn't know you live here. But, um, yes, I'm sort of lost."

Ymir straightened herself up. "I could lead you back to where you live...where do you live?"

"Hermiha," she answered quietly.

Ymir knew exactly where that was, it was about almost an hour's ride away from where she was, though by bike it would take ten minutes. Ymir tugged on the reins and brought Titan's head to the right, she gestured with her head in a 'Come along' fashion to which Miss Reiss promptly followed.

They walked into the thicket on the comforts of their horses, going at a slow and easy pace, taking in the green scent of pinewood. "Mind telling me what you're doing all the way out here?"

"I just wanted to get out of the house," Miss Reiss told her as they rode side by side. Even though her horse was about the same height as Titan, she was still shorter than Ymir. "My father likes to keep me on a tight chain but the only time he lets me out is when I go on trail, it helps me clear my mind, you know."

"Riding is good for the soul," Ymir mused. In her younger days, she and Titan used to travel far distances, in the mountains, in the plains, in the desert, everywhere; she knew the land like the back of her hand. She knew all the shortcuts and where to go, it was her land. "Sasha said you got here six months ago. Any reason?"

Miss Reiss didn't say anything.

Alone, unlike at church, the girl looked just...miserable, just utterly miserable. She kept to herself and had her eyes ahead on the path before her. Under any circumstance, Ymir would have called her rude- maybe she didn't know how to converse, didn't know how to lie. Silence was more alarming than deception.

"Too hard to say?" Ymir asked.

"It's just...I have a problem, just a slight problem."

"Wouldn't be a slight one if you end up here."

"I...I'm recovering from an addiction- oh, this is the first time I'm saying this," she said, she fumbled through her words. "I hope you don't think of me differently. It's not...it's really-"

Ymir shook her head. "Everyone's addicted to something in life. What was your poison?"

"Heroin," she admitted, she seemed to relax somewhat.

That would explain why she didn't look pretty today- she wasn't wearing her make-up, she was far from angelic, she looked more dead than alive.

Ymir let out a low whistle,"Damn. And your father lets your wander around like this? This town is more stocked than its own pharmacy, he'd know the area better than to move you out here."

"He didn't want me to be hospitalized, it'll ruin his image. He's trying to run for Senator."

"Senator, eh?"

The must have her reasons for forming an addiction, Ymir decided to not touch them, after all, they just met.

Miss Reiss nodded, her hands clutched her reins tighter as though the thought of her father's goal was the very bane to her existence. "All about power and all, he took me here to make sure I don't ruin his streak. The...thing I have, it got out of hand, I went through extensive therapy and all, and I've been clean so far, at least as far as I know. It's improvement, sure, but to me I don't really see a benefit."

"It'll help you in the long run, trust me," Ymir assured her.

"I...never spoke about this to anyone, not even Sasha."

"Do you talk to anyone but her?"

Miss Reiss shook her head. "I see her once a week. She doesn't know about me, at least, I don't think she does."

Oh, she might, which may explain why Sasha was insistent on not letting Ymir near the young lady as well. "There may be an inkling, but whatever she knows, she's only doing what she thinks is best for you. They're good people, the Braus family."

"Yes...but she always treats me like I'm some higher being, like she's taking care of me more than being friends."

Ymir nodded in understanding. "You got no one out here?"

"No. Mother died when I was a little girl, it's just me and my father right now."

"Hm.. Just me and two people at my place, there was Ilse but...you know where she is."

"Were you close? I'm sorry for prodding."

Ymir looked up at the canopies, trying to recall her younger days. "We were when we were kids, almost like sisters. She lost her parents in a car accident so my family took her in. After their deaths, she just shut herself in her room until now, so we started drifting apart in the end."

"Ah."

"She wasn't a bad person, she was just...weird, always writing on paper or something. Meanwhile, I grew up fixing engines and bikes, riding horses, just doing outdoors stuff, not really geared for staying in all the time. Drives me nuts."

They went on, idly speaking to one another. The more they spoke, the more Ymir realized...she was enjoying her company more more than Sasha's. She was talking to another living being, liking another's existence, sober. She didn't even have an urge to smoke too, that was a first. She learned that the girl game from Mitras, she attended a private Christian school, and that she used to compete in hunting competitions, as in horses going through a course in an arena.

Ymir kept most of the bad laundry out of the way, inputting tamer parts of her life, random memories that were pleasant, she didn't feel like letting out the reasons why she was in Trost.

"...if you ever need to go somewhere, you can come to my place since you figured out where it is," Ymir offered, giving the girl some solace.

Jean specialized in meth, not heroin, and Hanji never distributed her own concoctions to the public, her home was generally clean of what the girl sought after for her cravings.

Miss Reiss smiled, it was a weak one but a genuine one. Ymir learned that the domestic side of her at church was a false face. Over the passing hour, she revealed bits and pieces of her true self- overall, she was just a lonely soul just looking for companionship.

Even with other people living in her home, Ymir figured herself to be alone as well.

"Thank you for the offering, I might just take it one day," she said graciously.

They had ridden through the forest, eventually ending up on pavement, a sign of Hermiha. Further down the road was the community itself, Miss Reiss assured Ymir that she knew how to return home from there. She continued to walk by her, making sure that there was a building nearby to give confirmation that the girl truly near home.

Ymir adjusted her seating in the saddle, her back slightly aching from sitting for too long. It had been a while since she went out on a journey like this, but she didn't mind it as long as Miss Reiss was returned safely.

"Miss Reiss-"

"Ymir, you can stop the formalities," she said, sighing,"as much as I appreciate you respecting me, I...we can be friends, so just talk to me like one."

Ymir's eyes went wide for a moment, just slightly in surprise. "Really?"

"And the way you treat me at church, it's quite superficial."

Ymir chuckled. "You saw right through me then. Well, Miss Reiss, what do you want to call me?"

"When we're not in the presence of my father, it's Krista Lenz."

"W-what?" Ymir spluttered.

Wait...

Krista broke her tired horse into a sudden trot, fleeing instantly, all the while giggling. "You're much more fun when you're not a gentleman!"

Ymir tried to keep up with her, but Titan's energy was well spent, he refused to keep up with her as her horse started to canter.

She watched her disappear beyond a bend.

This girl...she was strange, a good kind of strange, though strange nonetheless.

Out of the option to follow her, Ymir turned towards home with the sun beating down upon her.

The morning fog had been batted away, it was just another day.


End file.
